The Pain That I’m Used To - A Poem

A poem about the constant pain that comes with a chronic illness

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(Apologies and credit to Depeche Mode for the use of their title)

Hello ME/CFS and poetry people,

It’s been a bit of a week. I’m still struggling with the aftermath of a chest infection, i.e. coughing. I recently calculated I had spend over 130+ months of my life coughing, that is over 10 years. Wow! Just wow! I wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or depressed. Anyhoos, this cough seems to do a 2 steps forward one step back kind of thing, with occasionally 3 steps back. This is par for the course. Most of the time I maintain a reasonably, for me, positive outlook. And then some days, like the last few days, it’s been a bit harder. Interesting that it has happened during mental health week. I have written previously about have a grump day, though this time it has dragged out. I know eventually it will end, it always does.

Well, this morning I got up and everything hurt, I mean really hurt, much more than normal, and the first two lines spilled from my mouth as I swore my way towards pills. So turn a negative to a positive, let’s write a poem about it. (The formatting looks best on a laptop, iPad or computer, on phones it squishes.)

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Photo by Pawel Czerwinski on Unsplash

Pain 

It’s just unrelenting, fucking unrelenting
Un-re-len-t-ing. Constant, ever present, 
always there, ceaseless. Yes, ceaseless 
is good. It never ceases. Day in, day out.
Sleep should provide respite but it follows 
into my dreams, tainting them, themes 
twisted and anxious, full of danger, despair.
And it builds to a crescendo, like this poem, reaches a perilous, formidable             peak
and then, for no reason at all, it

abates 

almost as though 
it knows I can
take no more
sits softly
waiting
purring
gathering 
it’s energy
readying for
the next wave

and breathing
so carefully
sit softly
I brace
waiting
girding
gathering 
my strength
readying for
the next wave

unrelenting 
ceaseless 
always 
and so 
I sit
sadly
alone
quietly
preparing 
for the next 

inevitable merciless spike, 	harsh, 	sharp           unrelenting                           unrelenting

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And payment for my plagiarism of the title, a video for you, other than the title it doesn’t have anything to do with my poem, but it’s good music.

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